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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23004913">the ghosts all come at night, and I'm not scared, I have you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisnights/pseuds/louisnights'>louisnights</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hacker Zayn, Hunter Harry Styles, Hunter Louis, M/M, Mute Harry, No Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Supernatural Elements, nd some injuries that come with fighting ghosts., this is a supernatural au so obviously theres some ghostly murder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:29:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23004913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisnights/pseuds/louisnights</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a hunter. He starts investigating a case, where he meets Harry, family of the victim and also a fellow hunter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the ghosts all come at night, and I'm not scared, I have you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I just felt like posting it today so,,, i did. all mistakes are mine, big thanks to my friend lexa for reading over it for me to make sure it wasn't bad. thank you lexa ily.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Louis has been pouring over the newspapers for weeks trying to find a good case. He’s turned to begging whatever deity up above to give him a good one, something to scratch the itch he’s having. He turns the page, and there it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It looks like it will just be a routine ghost haunting. A good old salt and burn. It’s a haunting in an old house in Holmes Chapel. The owner was killed by a suspected attempted-burglary according to the news article, but there’s not much more information there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis gets out his laptop, booting it up while he fixes himself a new cup of Yorkshire with a dash of milk. He takes a long sip of the hot drink before he sits down at the table, pulling up all the details of the case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man had been found lying on the floor in the family room, a shallow stab wound to the neck and the letter opener lying beside his head, bloody. The door had been locked from the inside, and the TV was still on with the man’s half-eaten dinner on the coffee table. The man’s cause of death was exsanguination. The man’s son had found him the morning after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis knows this doesn’t look like a typical case that he would normally pursue, but he’s getting desperate for something to do. He hasn’t had a good case in about two months. He packs all of the things he needs and leaves an hour later, en route to Holmes Chapel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The morning after, he heads straight to the modest old house where the murder took place. The house looks pretty and welcoming with its beige walls, brown porch swing and light blue door. He adjusts his denim jacket around the cuff before he knocks on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kind of hates that in England, he can’t pose as an FBI agent or anything like that. Back in the states, during his visit there, he’d been able to get information easily and efficiently just by posing as an agent. Here, though, he can’t really risk it. Nothing is the same here, as the cases there have a lot more variety. Most of the cases here are just sad old hauntings. He hasn’t had a run in with any demon since he got back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swings open to reveal a man around his age. He’s got chestnut-colored curls down to his neck, and bright green eyes. He’s tall, and he’s wearing loose black trousers, paired with a cute pink hoodie, the words ‘treat people with kindness’ are hand-stitched into the upper right side of it. He’s gorgeous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man smiles politely at him, and Louis clears his throat before he starts speaking. “Hi there. Are you a relative of Desmond Styles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man just nods, raising an eyebrow as if to ask ‘why?’ or ‘who are you?’ Louis isn’t quite sure. “I’m Jack Turner, and I’m a private investigator working on your father’s case. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man shakes his head and opens the door wider to let him in. Louis smiles awkwardly as he shuffles into the front hall. The man stops him gently with a hand on his shoulder before starting to sign with his hands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m H-A-R-R-Y, do you want anything, tea? Coffee?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Louis blinks as he processes what the man was signing. He’s lucky that he knows sign language. He brings his hands up and answers Harry’s question. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Tea would be great. Thank you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smiles, a dimple making an appearance in his right cheek. Louis has a weakness for dimples, and the sight takes his breath away. This man is too pretty.. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Harry’s disappeared into the kitchen, Louis sits down on the sofa in the family room. He looks around, trying to see any signs of a haunting in this house. The only thing he notices is just the bleach stain on the carpeted floor from where the puddle of blood used to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry walks in with two steaming mugs of tea, one black for Louis and one green for himself. He puts both on the table in between them and sits down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re here about the haunting, aren’t you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis chokes on his tea. He clears his throat loudly, taking another sip to soothe it before he puts the mug down and signs back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You know about that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry signs, a slight smirk on his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just like I know your name isn’t Jack.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Fucking great</span>
  <em>
    <span>,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Louis says with a groan.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “How long have you known about the supernatural?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Since I was little,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry signs, his smile turning slightly sad. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“My best friend was a ghost before he turned violent. A hunter showed up to save me and my family from him.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry about your friend,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Louis signs, giving a sympathetic smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How old were you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ten,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry answers. He takes a delicate sip of his tea before he continues. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What’s your real name?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“L-O-U-I-S-T-O-M-L-I-N-S-O-N,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Louis says his name out loud as he signs it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Been a hunter for about seven years now”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nods, thinking for a minute. Then he combines the sign for blue and the letter L. he points at Louis and repeats the motion. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Now you’ve got a sign to go with your name.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ phone rings, and he quickly fishes it out of his pocket. He signs a quick sorry and points at his phone before he answers it. “What’ve you got for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found an old case in that same house,” Zayn says. “A woman in her late fifties killed by a burglary gone wrong. There’s no record of where she’s buried but that doesn’t really matter. She was cremated. But, She’s the only person I’ve found who fits this haunting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Louis sighs. The case is a lot more interesting now, but it’s gonna take a lot of work. “You’re sure about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, dipshit, I’m sure,” Zayn replies. “Just solve it, I’m too tired to hack for you now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you can take a few days to rest, I’ve got some help over here,” Louis says. He gets up to look out of the family room’s window so he could avoid Harry reading his lips. “His name is Harry, he’s so beautiful! He's got <em>dimples</em>, Zayn, I’m pretty sure I want to have his babies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zayn just hangs up on him. Louis is not surprised. Zayn never wants to listen to him wax poetic about his crushes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis turns around to find Harry laughing silently into his hands. He waves his hand to get his attention before he signs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What’s so funny?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry snorts, the sound echoing loudly through the silent room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not deaf, I’m mute.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Louis says loudly, falling into his seat on the couch. “So you heard that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nods, still laughing lightly. The dimples in his cheeks melt Louis’ heart. He wants to poke them. He lets out a sigh. “I don’t suppose you can pretend like I didn’t say anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not a chance,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harry signs, smirking. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Not now that I know I'm not the only one feeling gobsmacked by the fit hunter. Or what was it you said? You wanna have my babies?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis buries his face in his hands. The embarrassment is killing him. Where’s an asshole ghost when you need them to distract you?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” He gets up, pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. “We need to figure out this case. You know if there’s anything here that might’ve belonged to the old lady who lived here before your dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shrugs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The house was already furnished when dad moved in. Everything here could be the link to her.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis groans loudly. “You mean we have to dig through her life just to figure out what the fuck she’s connected to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nods excitedly, as if the thought doesn’t bother him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I miss investigating. We can be, like, a dream team.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The dream team?” Louis snorts. “Sure, why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis throws his keys to Harry, who catches them easily in his hands. “You can drive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get into his black Toyota. Louis immediately takes off his shoes and props his feet carelessly up on the dashboard. They’d searched the whole house, trying to find anything that could make sense as the object connecting to the spirit. “I don’t suppose we can just burn the whole place down?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry gives him a look that makes him mimic zipping his mouth closed. He knows logically that burning the place down might just be for nothing. Louis dials Zayn’s number.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said you didn’t need me anymore,” Zayn says, and Louis can tell that the fucker is smirking. “Thought you had a new partner, the other father to your future babies, and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up,” Louis retorts, blushing. “Can you find me any living person that might have known the old woman?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her name was Stacey Mills, Lou,” Zayn says. “She has no living relatives, and most people who knew her were just the mailman and such.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So she had no one?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Check out her neighbours at the time. I’ll send you names and addresses.” Zayn hangs up before Louis even has a chance to say thanks, as per usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis turns to look at Harry, admiring his profile for a second before he speaks. “Stacey Mills was a loner of an old woman. She had no one at the time of her murder, no fucking idea what’s even keeping her here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stops at a red light and turns to him fully so he can sign. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Give me all info.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Then he turns back to focus on the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Louis says, bringing up all the info on the files on his phone. “Stacey Mills, born in 1952 in Holmes Chapel. Lived in the same house all her life until she died in 1998. Her death was assumed to be a burglary gone wrong because of a jewellery box and some vintage vases being missing. Her cause of death was the same as your father’s. Stabbed in the neck, the ultimate cause of death being blood loss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Louis looks back up at Harry, his jaw is clenched, and his fingers are white from how hard he’s gripping at the steering wheel. He gently prides Harry’s left hand off the wheel and holds it. He squeezes it softly and Harry’s grip on the wheel relaxes somewhat, and his jaw relaxes completely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis knows this case will be hard for Harry, and he wants to do his best to try and be there for him. Even though they’ve only known each other for like a day, he feels like they have a connection already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry locks the car by pressing the button on the key and throws them towards Louis, who manages to catch them easily in both hands. He starts signing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You know what we’re here for, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course,” Louis says. “This ain’t my first time at the rodeo, hun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry rolls his eyes and walks ahead of him into the library, towards the computers, which leaves Louis to deal with the boring investigative work. Rude. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walks towards the reception desk, where a woman who looks to be in her late 50’s is sitting, knitting a blue scarf. Louis clears his throat to catch her attention before he speaks. “Hello, darling, I was wondering if you had any old newspapers lying around? Like from the nineties?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, love,” The woman replies with a kind smile. “We might, just follow me to the archives, we can check there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis nods and follows the woman as she walks through isles of books towards the stairs that lead to the second floor. From there she leads him to the very back of the place, where lightly dusted newspapers are on the shelves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we have ‘em, they’ll be here,” The woman says. She pats him lightly on the pack as she turns to leave. “Good luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis gave her his most charming smile. “Thanks, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks around at all the piles of newspapers in front of him, spanning from the 80’s all the way to the current year. Good luck to him indeed, he thinks, as he sits down and grabs the first paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis puts the box down on the table so it lands with a heavy thud, startling Harry in the process. Harry looks down at the box, stacked full of newspapers, and raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t looked through these yet,” Louis admits sheepishly. “I brought them here so we could look through them together.” He sits down across from Harry and takes out a red sharpie from the pocket of his jacket, then throws it towards him with a flourish. “You go through the week after stacey’s death, and I’ll look through the rest of the month after that. We should find something of use.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“At least I’m definitely gonna see articles,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry signs, smug. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good luck finding anything in your stack.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis rolls his eyes and opens the first newspaper in his stack of twenty five. This is going to be a long day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first newspaper, dated on the 8th day after Stacey’s death contains nothing of use. Neither do the next five papers he goes through. He’s starting to get a crick in his neck. He looks up to see that Harry’s on his last paper. “Please tell me you found something,” Louis pleads. “Otherwise I’m quite literally going to find that ghost and punch it in the face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you sure you’re a hunter?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry asks, like the smartass he is. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You can’t punch ghosts, your hand will just go through them.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha Ha Ha,” Louis laughs mockingly. “Not with that attitude. Now please tell me what you’ve found.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They had a suspect in custody for a few hours,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry signs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But he was released because he had an alibi.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The name of the suspect?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shrugs.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Doesn’t say.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Delightful,” Louis sighs. “Well we’re clearly not gonna find shit in here.” he signs the next part of his sentence wordlessly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Let’s go hack into the police records.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry claps his hands excitedly at that, and Louis can’t help how endeared he is by it. Harry with his cute, cute dimples, and his beautiful smile and his brown curls that he just wants to run his fingers through all the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry raises an eyebrow at his staring and Louis plays it off with a shrug and a nonchalant “let’s just get to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you hacked into the police records in the library,” Louis exclaims. “Like who does that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Me,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>harry signs, a proud smile on his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re the one who can’t hack for shit so you use your little friend on the other end of that phone.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hack!” Louis protests. “I just prefer not to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How you solve cases alone is beyond me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I resent that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Like I resent your face?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, Harry, great comeback,” Louis pretends to shiver. “I’m quaking in my boots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smacks him upside the head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi!” Louis yells, stroking the back of his neck. “That’s abuse!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why don’t you go cry about it while I solve this case by myself</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Harry asks. His self satisfied smirk in place that Louis is beginning to hate. Or he wants to kiss it off his face. Semantics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grumbles under his breath as he gets into the car on the driver’s side. He turns on the car as Harry gets in on the passenger side. He’s still smirking, the bastard, and Louis wants to smack him. He hates how hot Harry is with that smirk, how the butterflies in Louis’ belly won’t shut up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck it all,” Louis exclaims and he leans in to kiss Harry. Harry freezes up and Louis regrets this immediately. He pulls back. “Oh my god i’m so so-” before he can finish his apology, Harry’s lips are back on his and oh that feels nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis is just about to deepen the kiss when the phone rings and they spring apart, Harry's lips are wet, and swollen, and so so kissable that he almost dives in again. He makes himself look away by sheer willpower and fishes the phone out of his pocket. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have such a type, Lou,” Zayn says mockingly. “My guess, it’s the dimples.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on, dimples are cute,” Louis grumbles. “Why’d you call, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did some more hacking and I found something interesting,” Zayn replies. “Apparently Desmond had something to hide, like the fact that his best friend in the 90’s killed an old woman and got away with it by giving Desmond some jewelry, which effectively made him shut up about the whole thing when the cops came looking. He provided an alibi and everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you find all this information?” Louis asks, his gaze shifting to Harry for a split second before it strays back to the view outside his window. “I hacked into Desmond’s voicemails, texts, emails, everything,” Zayn says. “This isn’t a supernatural case, I’m pretty sure you’ve just got a normal murder. No ghosts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis groans. “And how will I solve this when I can’t arrest the fucking guy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis can hear some typing on the other end of the line. The typing gets faster until it cuts off and he hears Zayn mutter a soft “fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it, Zayn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, take back what I said, this is definitely a ghost,” zayn says. “It’s not Stacey, it’s Bradley. The friend who killed Stacey, his body was found an hour ago.”’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I’m guessing he’s been dead for a while then,” Louis says. “We’ll have to wait till he’s buried to salt and burn the remains.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck,” Zayn says. “And be careful. Not only because of the ghost, but use protection when you sleep with Dimples.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the last time I ever tell you about the men I like,” Louis huffs and hangs up. Then he whispers under his breath. “Dickhead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry pokes him in the shoulder to get his attention.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “What’s up?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he’s filled Harry in on everything that Zayn told him, they go back to Harry’s place with some take out and wine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis shovels his second helping of chicken tikka in his mouth and enjoys it. It’s so hard to find decent indian take out while on a hunt. Harry puts his empty dish on the table between them with a satisfied smile and pats his belly. Louis chuckles. “You’re welcome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finishes his last few bites before he leans back into his chair next to Harry. He pats his belly. “Gosh that was good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nods in agreement and gets up slowly, grabbing the bottle of wine with him as he walks into the family room. He settles himself on the couch and pats the space next to him. Louis smiles as he sits down and settles himself comfortably on the couch. “What do you wanna do now?” he wiggles his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry laughs, and it’s silent, as always, and Louis wishes he could hear it. He imagines that Harry would have the most wonderful and infectious laugh, one that would suit his dorky personality. Harry leans in to give him a soft kiss on the cheek and Louis can feel a tingle as he pulls back. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m feeling like playing truth or dare while we enjoy the wine,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry signs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Truth or dare?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis hums as he thinks about it, patting his hands on his thighs. “Truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Boring,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry teases. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ve mentioned you like cute boys with dimples. Who’s the other cute boy you liked?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis takes a long sip of his wine, staining his lips red in the process. “I was in America a couple years ago, worked a few cases here and there. Met some hunters along the way. Some were cute men with dimples.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And you dated one of them?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not exactly,” Louis replies. He doesn’t really know how to explain the whole situation without giving himself away entirely, and he’s not ready for that yet. “There was this one guy, Sam. he’s not what you’d call charming, exactly, but during one case, he saved my life. Then about a month later, we met again at this one bar while we were both researching the same case, and one thing led to another and we... hooked up. Sort of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Was he fit?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very fit, but,” Louis can’t help himself from saying it, and he knows it’s cheesy but he grabs Harry’s hand and kisses his knuckles. “Not as fit as you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry snorts, his smile lighting up the room. Louis takes a satisfying sip of the wine before handing it to Harry. “Your turn, truth or dare?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Truth.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oooh who’s the boring one now, hmm?” Louis teases. “You don’t have to answer this but have you always been mute?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s smile vanishes off his face, replaced with an expression of melancholy and sadness. Louis wishes he hadn’t asked.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “It was during a case. Demon choked me so hard that I lost my voice.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Louis places a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezes. “Did he manage to get away?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shakes his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“My friend managed to stab him with a demon blade. No idea where he got one, though. It’s rare.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Louis says. “Sam carries one. Wonder if he still has it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry grabs onto Louis’ hand that’s still resting on his shoulder and holds it. Then he takes a pull from the wine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Say dare.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s lips move up into a tentative smile, lips still stained red from the wine, and Louis licks his lips, not able to stop staring. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I dare you to kiss me, Louis.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry barely even manages to put the wine bottle down on the coffee table before Louis’ surging forward and claiming his lips in a bruising kiss that leaves them both breathless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis surges awake to the sound of a loud crash echoing throughout the house. He looks around in the dark and there’s broken glass in the hallway, as well as blood on the wall and Harry’s not there. “Harry!” he yells as he continues to look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s another crash from upstairs, and Louis takes off in a run towards it without any hesitation. When he gets to the bathroom, there’s glass everywhere. The mirror is broken, and Harry is breathing heavily as he leans against the wall, clutching at his side. Louis’ eyes zero in on the bleeding wound in the left side of his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck! Harry,” Louis grabs Harry’s arm and puts it around his shoulder in order for him to carry most of his weight. They walk slowly through the house until they're in the hallway, but the lock on the door clicks loudly. “Fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He deposits Harry on the sofa. “Stay there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ghost of the man who killed Harry’s father materialises and swings at him, Louis ducks, rolling down on the floor as he tries to grab the metal handle that’s in the fireplace. The ghost throws a glass in his direction, and it just misses his head, landing on the wall and the tiny pieces of glass rain down on him. He grabs the metal handle and swings it at the ghost. It dematerialises in seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, run for the door. Now!” Louis yells, and he runs towards it to keep it open. Harry manages to stumble outside and onto the porch before the door slams shut in his face. He sighs. He’s stuck inside for now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Louis curses as he waits for the ghost to appear again. He can vaguely register Harry’s fists pounding on the other side of the door. The ghost appears again and Louis swings at it with the metal handle, wincing when it screams. He turns around, managing to open the door and running outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry falls right into his arms, and Louis helps him into the car. “Let’s get to my hotel room, I’ve got supplies to fix that injury right up,” Louis says. He deposites Harry in the passenger seat before he runs to the driver’s side of the car. As soon as he’s sitting inside, he floors it out of there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they stop in front of his hotel, he lets himself breathe. He runs his hand softly through Harry’s sweaty curls. “Are you okay, baby?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nuzzles into his hand, giving his palm a gentle kiss. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m fine. Let’s go inside.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis nods. That was a close call. He won’t let it happen again, won’t let Harry get hurt again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets out of the car and walks around to get to the passenger side. He helps Harry out, letting him lean most of his weight on him as they walk into the hotel room. He puts Harry on the bed while he goes to get his medical supplies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s shirt is wet with blood, staining the fabric with the tragically beautiful crimson colour. He uses his scissors to cut the fabric from the wound. He lets out a few swear words when he sees it. He takes a look at Harry’s face, who’s gotten so pale, like he’s about to pass out any minute. “Hazza, stay awake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a sip from the vodka he’d gotten along with the medical supplies. He lets Harry steal a sip, too, before he pours a generous amount over the wound, making Harry hiss loudly. Louis can see some tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he swears wordlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hates to see him in so much pain. He gets everything ready to stitch the wound, and kisses Harry’s forehead. “I’m going to stitch you up, darling, it won’t take long, promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets to work quickly, his hands surprisingly steady considering how he feels. He glances at Harry’s face for a second, and his eyes are squeezed shut, and Louis can tell how hard it is for him to stay awake. So he does whatever he can to keep him awake. He talks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He talks about his family and how he became a hunter. About his time in America where he fought demons, ghosts and even a wendigo once, which was where he first met Sam. He talks about how good it felt to save people, to work with someone for once instead of being a lone hunter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry seems to be enjoying his storytelling skills, by the way he’s smiling softly through the pain.  Louis finishes the last stitch and cleans the wound before dressing it. He helps Harry into a loose fitting t-shirt to sleep in before he tucks him into a blanket. “You can sleep now. I’ll wake you every hour to make sure you’re not concussed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nods imperceptibly before he passes out. He doesn’t even feel the gentle kiss Louis presses to his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis takes a sip of his tea, staring at Harry’s sleeping form. He’s safe to sleep through the night now, and Louis is tired, and really, really angry. How dare that ugly ghost attack his boy-. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks, looking down into his drink. Harry’s not his boyfriend, and they’ve never even been on a date. They’ve only known each other for, like, a day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kind of hopes they will be boyfriends after all this, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs, looking at Harry’s sleeping form again. He puts down his tea and walks out of the room. He walks to his car, and sits down in the driver’s seat. He searches through the glove compartment for what he needs, and when he finds the mobile he needs, he dials Sam’s number and waits as it rings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Louis?” Sam answers. “How long’s it been? Like two years?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Sam,” Louis says. “I just need advice. So, a ghost attacked my boyfriend and he’s got a huge gash on his stomach. He’s fine now, I fixed him up but I need to know. How acceptable would it be for a hunter to salt and burn a body while it’s still in the morgue?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really not a good idea,” Sam replies. “I think you should wait until the body’s in the ground, just to keep your identity hidden. There might be cameras in the hallways in the morgue. But, if you have already decided to do it then I suggest you hack into the system to turn off all the cameras or delete the footage of you right after. And don’t leave any prints, make sure to use a fire extinguisher to get the fire down after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” Sam replies. “So, boyfriend, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet, but, I hope so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, good luck, man,” Sam says. “Don’t be a stranger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, thanks, I won’t. Say hi to Dean and Cas for me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I will,” Sam says. “Good to hear from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis hangs up the phone. He knows this is a dumb idea. He should just hole up in the hotel room with Harry until the body’s in the ground, but he’s not a patient man when it comes to these things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis parks a few blocks away from the morgue, walking slowly towards the back. He takes a while to look around, making sure no one is in that particular space when he sneaks in through the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tiptoes up to the door, looking inside through the small window to see one security guard sleeping soundly in a chair. Louis huffs out a small quiet laugh, shaking his head. Small town security guards, they never care in jobs like these.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens the door, walking inside with quiet steps. The first thing he does is put on some latex gloves, then he looks through the glass cabinets, taking out a cloth and pouring a generous amount of chloroform in it. He walks up from behind the security guard. “I’m sorry about this, mate.” He says softly before he holds the cloth up to the man’s face, ensuring that he’s out cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He then finds the right body, opens that cabinet and drags the body out. He takes out some salt from his back pocket, and pours it over the body. He was dumb enough to not bring his gasoline dispenser so he needs something else to burn the body with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eyes the chloroform and grabs it, pouring it over the body and lighting a match, dropping it on top. He pouts when the fire doesn’t start. He looks around, sighing, hands on his hips. He spots a big bottle of disinfectant, and grabs that and pours it over the body. He lights another match and the body lights up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis jumps back, cursing harshly under his breath. The smoke reaches high, and the flames spread all over the body. The air in the room turns hot, and breathing becomes uncomfortable. Louis considers it a good thing that he’s used to smoke from the occasional cigarette or joint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him a while to find a fire extinguisher, and by then the room is full with smoke, the fire having reached the floor. Louis sprays on all flames he spots until there’s nothing left but ash and evaporating smoke. He coughs loudly into his elbow, throwing the fire extinguisher onto the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who the fuck are you?” A loud male voice sounds from a door to the left. There’s two security guards standing there staring at him, their eyes going from Louis to the state of the room then back to him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis chuckles nervously. “Heh, I saw the fire and ran inside to put it out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men just stare at him, one of them reaching to his walkie talkie and speaking. “Lance, call the police, we’ve got a case of arson in the morgue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walkie talkie crackles. “The morgue?” An incredulous voice asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis spots another door, the one he came through earlier. He runs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parking the car in front of the motel, Louis shuts off the engine, sighing. He’s covered in ash and sweat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The security guard had chased him for twenty minutes. Louis was lucky to have gotten away. He takes some time to breathe, enjoying the fact that there’s no smoke in his lungs anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is quite frankly, the dumbest thing he’s ever done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs his phone from the glove compartment, dialling Zayn’s number and ignoring the fact that it’s now six in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you doing calling me at six am?” Zayn grumbles, voice raspy with sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis chuckles nervously. “I sort of need you to get me out of a little mess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that couldn’t have waited until I don’t know?” Zayn hisses. “Until not fucking 6 in the morning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you to hack into the Holmes Chapel funeral home, or morgue or whatever the fuck, delete some footage of me breaking in tonight,” Louis says, then realising it’s the morning he adds, “Last night. Whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do it, but do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> call for the rest of the day, I wanna sleep until at least two, I’ve got a client at four.” Then he hangs up. Louis is just thankful that Zayn agreed to help him out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets out of the car, quietly unlocking the door to his motel room and sneaking through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s still out cold, his mouth open in silent gasps that Louis thinks are supposed to be snores. He can’t help but think it’s sort of endearing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a quick shower, scrubbing all the ash off his skin with a washcloth, shampooing his hair twice just to be sure it’s all out. The water turned gray on its way down the drain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He towels off before he puts on his joggers, paired with his comfy red sweatshirt and walks out of the bathroom to see Harry lying there, sleepily awake with a pout on his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I woke up earlier, where were you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Took care of our little ghostie,” Louis says, smiling. “It was easy peasy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So why do you look so exhausted?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got chased by two security guards for a while before I managed to shake em’,” Louis shrugs. “It was still worth it. Now, let me be forward and ask, will you go out with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s pout turns into the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen, and he can’t help but to situate himself in the small bed besides him to give him sweet pecks on the lips. Then they cuddle until they fall asleep together, and Louis knows that he won’t ever leave this boy’s side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wakes up to something tingly on the tip of his nose. He scrunches it, trying to get rid of the feeling without having to scratch it, and the feeling stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It comes back a second later, and as Louis wakes up fully, he realises it’s a finger stroking down his nose. He waits until the finger reaches the tip of his nose before he grabs the culprit’s hand and opens his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s smiling at him, looking all cute and sleepy in Louis’ oversized t-shirt, the one he got from Sam back in the states after a grueling hunt, and Harry doesn’t really swim in it the way Louis does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, love,” Louis says, voice gone deep with disuse. Harry leans in for a kiss, but winces before he reaches his lips. Louis sits up, gently pushing on Harry’s chest until he’s laying back on the pillows. “Let me check your wound, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry giggles silently, smiling widely as he uses his right hand to sign. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“B-A-B-Y?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Louis bites his lip, blushing. He gets up, grabbing his bag from the floor for the medical supplies. He grabs them, reaching for the vodka that was left on the nightstand the night before. Harry frowns when he notices Louis grab it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, it hurts a lot,” Louis grabs Harry’s left hand, giving it a quick kiss on the back before peeling Harry’s shirt back, taking the dressing off the wound carefully. The wound looks gross, but uninfected. It’s starting to heal quite nicely, in Louis’ opinion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pours the vodka on the wound, ignoring the way Harry’s muscles tense up at the burn of it, dressing the wound as quickly as he can after he slathers the ointment on. When he’s done, he takes care of the old dressing, throwing it in the trash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s sweaty, his forehead wet from all the pain. Louis presses a kiss to his cheek. “You did good, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry gives him a nod, lifting his hands up to sign. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It feels better now, but also really painful.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Louis says. He grabs Harry’s left hand, just holding it. “It’s not a good idea for you to shower right now, with the wound, but I noticed a couple of washcloths in the bathroom you can use to clean up if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nods, squeezing his hand before letting go. He gets up carefully, taking his time to walk slowly to the bathroom. He gives Louis a small smile before he closes the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis grabs his phone, noticing that he’s got three messages from Zayn.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Grumpy Fucker:</b>
  <span> I deleted all the footage</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Grumpy Fucker:</b>
  <span> what the fuck were you thinking, doing a salt and burn in a morgue!?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Grumpy Fucker:</b>
  <span> I made this for you, enjoy it, wanker</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s an attachment. Louis clicks it, and a video starts loading. It’s the security footage from the morgue, except Zayn has edited a song onto it. Right as Louis throws the match on the body, and the body lights up, the chorus to Fall Out Boy’s My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark starts playing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis lets out a loud laugh, playing it back before he replies to Zayn.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Louis: </b>
  <span>thanks for that, fucker</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Grumpy Fucker: </b>
  <span>you’re welcome. Don’t do it again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis knows someone who will love the video so he emails it to Sam, telling him to watch it with Dean, and that they should learn from him to never light up a body in a morgue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry walks out of the bathroom, naked except for his pants, and Louis whistles, covering his eyes. “Hottie in the room, avert your eyes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry rolls his eyes, his chest and shoulder shaking as he laughs. He points at Louis’ phone as he starts signing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What was so funny?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you have to see this!” Louis shoves the phone into Harry’s hands, pressing play on the video. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits patiently as Harry watches it, his eyebrows going up as he gasps. He looks up at Louis, his eyes wide. He shoves the phone into Louis’ hands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You idiot! You could have killed yourself!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” Louis says, raising his hands up in surrender. “I know. I won’t ever do it again, I learned my lesson. But you have to admit, this was hilarious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harry signs. He runs a hand through his hair.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Seeing that just worried me a bit. I really like you, Louis, and I don’t want to lose you when I’ve just got you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got me, huh?” Louis wiggles his eyebrows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shoves him lightly in the shoulder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m serious.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis sobers up, taking a step closer to Harry. “I know, I’m sorry. I like you, too. We’re going on a date, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nods, biting his lip. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can we go tonight?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you want, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry smiles, both of his dimples making an appearance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Now will you kiss me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you wish,” Louis frames his face in his hands, running his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth, making Harry huff and grab Louis’ face, dragging him into a proper kiss. </span>
</p>
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